His Sweetheart
by Daisy Demise
Summary: Miss Kawasaki, a new addition to L's force has a desire to taste Watari's cuisine creations, but has been told off L's hostility towards his sweets. After assisting him in a drug bust, she believes that now is the time to ask him for a sample of these sweets. But will she fall from his cold exterior? Please review even if it is short! Thank you!


"L," I call as I spin around in my velvet revolving chair, my heart racing from the image on the monitor.

"Yes Miss Kawasaki?" he replies, but his voice possesses no incitement or regard to what I'm about to say.

Deflated, I swerve around back towards the monitor and wait for him to step beside me, and suddenly my body tenses as I feel his eyes studying the correct monitor with skilled deception. My hands find each other under the desk as they play with each other, sweating under his judgement. And when he finally speaks, I nearly jump with alarm from his voice.

"This is the location of the hideout, do you have the address?" he asks, certain he will receive an answer as he keeps his eyes on the screen.

It takes me a few seconds to process his words, as I am simply mesmerised by his dark eyes. His black hair is chaotic, as if it had never been touched by a comb. Dark circles surround his blank eyes, isolating them from his pale skin and hollow face. And his lips, dry as a desert until he eats a spoon of ice cream or drinks a creamy cup of coffee. But as I gaze at these astonishing features, I am oblivious to the fact that my mouth is slightly open and a sliver of drool is glistening in the light of the room. And he is staring with those empty eyes once again, and Naomi is joining in.

"Miss Kawasaki? Can you please tell me the address?" he repeats, this time with a hint of annoyance.

My bubble bursts and I'm back in the room, and L is staring at me as if I am a bizarre exhibit he has come across in a museum, studying me. Shivering, I nod, and I find the sheet of paper with the typed address.

"38 Indie Avenue, Glendale, California," I read out, struggling with a few of the pronunciations as I speak. But L nods, confirming that he understood and he returns to his own screens, all 20 of them without a thank you.

Though he doesn't show gratitude, I still feel warm when he accepts information I give him. As if I've done something right. Despite being slightly ditzy and perhaps not the brightest light in the room, just being here is enough for me. You could say I'm under-appreciated, but to me, being appreciated doesn't matter. If it gets work done, that's what counts. And I think L understands that, which is why he doesn't bother with the thank yous. He knows we all work her because we have a common goal, to bring justice. That isn't something we should be thanked for, because while we help others, we help ourselves at the same time. Saying thank you is just a waste of time…

L adjusts the voice scrambler and taps it a few times, and after receiving feedback he begins to set up a call on his laptop. I turn my chair around discreetly to watch, and watch as he leans over in his chair so his mouth reaches the microphone. Various names appear on the screen, each above a small picture, presumably of the people he speaks to.

"_Good evening gentleman, we have found the location of the drug dealer's base. We need a squad for an ambush, an armed squad_," he spoke in English, with perfect pronunciation and fluidity.

"What is the address?" one of the men on the line asked, and I could already predict what was to come.

"We cannot tell you that information. Send us a squad of twenty men, and we can get them there ourselves," he replied.

And within seconds, the conversation was in uproar. Men bellowed into their phones until their voices became hoarse, desperate to be heard. Sure, we could hear them, the volume of their voices was enough to let the next block hear into the conversation. However, L muted the volume of the laptop and closed it, and a few moments later Watari arrived with a tray of cakes, a cup of tea and a bowl of sugar cubes. L picked up the cup after dropping in 10 cubes, and took a quick sip as Watari left the tray on his desk. When he turns the volume back up, they are still going, and I find myself sighing by their incompetence.

"_Gentlemen. You are either in, or out. If you are willing to lend me a few men without question, please stay on the line. Otherwise, you may hang up,_" he concluded, and we all waited for the first line to go dead, which in fact, was nobody.

"_Good, then I will take it from here. You may hang up now_," he said, and then he pressed the "end" button.

He took another sip of tea, and selected a dainty fondant fancy from a beautiful set of crockery on the tray, before nibbling the pink icing that coated it. Those sweets looked delicious, but nobody dared ask him for one. Perhaps nobody cared for sweets, but one of my fatal flaws was my sweet tooth. And this time, I was _very _hungry. So without much consideration, I stood, and awkwardly shuffled over to him nervously, my mouth clamped shut. He barely paid any attention towards me, only focused on the delicious snack, but very hungrily I eyed the sweets up and down as I felt pairs of eyes staring at me from across the room.

"Um…" I mumbled.

Those dark eyes glanced at me briefly before returning to the half-devoured fondant fancy, and he wiped off a crumb with his finger and licked it off.

"Is there something I can help you with Miss Kawasaki?"

I licked my lips, recalling the last time I ate. Breakfast, a simple slice of toast and a glass of water.

"I was wondering, if I could have…" but my voice trailed off as I felt Naomi's eyes urging me to stop.

"Continue," he ordered as he picked another fancy, this time a chocolate one.

"Could I have…um…one of those sweets?"

For a while, he didn't respond, and abandoned me in the terror of his silence. Was I gone from simply asking for a sweet? Were all of my contributions meaningless compared to a damn fondant fancy? From the look Naomi gave me, these thoughts were becoming more and more realistic. And then, finally he spoke.

"I thought nobody liked sweets," he murmured thoughtfully.


End file.
